


Hidden injuries and phobias revealed

by dont_hate_me01



Series: Brothers [5]
Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Another case of beer, Bruises, Gen, H/C Challenge February Amnesty Round 10, Hospitalization, Hurt Clay Spenser, Hurt/Comfort, IFD2020, Phobias, Team as Family, asking for help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22912870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_hate_me01/pseuds/dont_hate_me01
Summary: After a successful mission with his new team, Clay deliberately fails to inform them of his injuries. This may have life threatening consequences.
Series: Brothers [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1311218
Comments: 28
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **AN 1:** Thank you again to [RoboFoxtrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboFoxtrot) for helping me out with this two part story. I can’t tell you how much your help means to me.
> 
>  **AN 2:** To [sneakypeaches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakypeaches), who took a chance to look at my intubation scene. Thank you for your help!
> 
>  **AN 3:** Written for the **HC_Bingo** February Amnesty challenge (Round 10) over on LiveJournal. The prompts were Bruises, Hospital stay, Phobias, and for the wild card, I used Asking for help.
> 
>  **AN 4:** A very late entry for this year’s International Fanworks Day which was on the 15th of February.
> 
> **AN 5:** All remaining mistakes, medical and otherwise remains mine.

Clay hissed as he tried to lift his arms above his head to rid himself of his t-shirt. Sweat beads formed on his forehead and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. He tried again and yelped in pain. Clay lowered the shirt and slowly moved over to the full-length mirror. There he lifted the t-shirt up far enough to look at the kaleidoscope of blue, purple, green and yellow that decorated the right side of his body and across his chest.

Clay stared at the deep purple, almost black bruising in the center of his chest, spreading outwards from his sternum to his pecks. He watched in the mirror as his fingers skimmed the contusion with the barest of touches. He’d taken a round to the chest plate. Not the first one, and he had a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. At the time it had robbed him of his breath, but after the initial shock passed, he could breathe again and continued on. He had to make up for lost time as he was sent up high to cover for the team.

By the time he made it halfway to his position, his breathing was off, but Clay didn’t let it slow him down. At his back, he could hear increased gun fire and knew his brothers were fighting for their lives. He’d bit down on his bottom lip, pushed through the slight gasps that now form part of his breathing, and made it to the top of the outcrop.

There, he’d quickly got into position and took out the tangos with headshots. When the last man fell and didn’t get back up, Clay keyed his comms and reported the all clear. He stayed in position as Bravo team entered the building, and remained where he was as they cleared the dwelling and came out with their HVT. There had been no squirters, and no other sign of life in and around the little village.

Bravo one had ordered him to come down and join them for exfil. Clay had collapsed his rifle, held it against his chest and headed down. It was only during the descent, that he’d realized how steep the terrain was where he’d gone up to cover his brothers. Clay had to concentrate hard on putting one foot in front of another and didn’t see the man until it was almost too late. The man tackled him from the side. The impact had him gasping in pain even as he twisted and turned in the man’s hold to get away. His attacker was twice his size, and had arms like tree stumps. Clay used his hand to hand combat training to his advantage, got the upper-hand over his opponent, and managed to get away. However, the giant was quick on his feet, and before Clay could execute his next move, he got slammed into a rock right side first. His vision turned black, and he knew that if he’d lost consciousness, he wouldn’t wake up.

Clay grabbed hold of the strands of consciousness, held on and then twisted his body again as the man grabbed him by the hair. He managed to get hold of his K-bar knife and with a single motion, buried it deep within the man’s neck. The giant gurgled, blood and spit turned his lips and beard red, as he stumbled away. By the time he fell to the ground, he was dead. Clay panted hard. He rested his hands on his knees and groaned out of pain as he stood up straight. More than one rib was definitely bruised. He ignored the pain and moved on.

He focused on the image in the mirror as his fingers travelled over the extensive bruising that travelled down the right side of his chest. This bruise was as a result of him getting slammed against the rock. Clay didn’t even attempt to push any harder against his ribs. He knew they weren’t busted, but he wouldn’t be touching them anytime soon. Clay turned away from the mirror, hissed and groaned at the sudden movement and made his way back to the kitchen. He had to get the shirt off and getting it over his head wasn’t going to work. At least he knew how to cut a shirt off. He liked the t-shirt, but even if he could shower with it, he still wouldn’t be able to get it off afterwards. Clay took the scissors and cut it from his body. He dropped the pieces of material on the counter, placed the scissors next to it and moved back to his room. Now he could shower.

The gods hated him as he struggled to toe off his boots and socks when he realized he couldn’t sit down to pull them off. At least his jeans and boxers went down a bit easier. Clay sighed as he finally made his way into the shower and turned it on. He loved his apartment and loved his shower even more. The water pressure was amazing and the temperature heated up within the blink of an eye. Clay placed his hands against the tiles, lowered his head and let the water stream down his chest and back.

The steam built up fast and it made it easier to breathe. Clay’s shoulders relaxed and he moved away from the wall to wash himself. He kept his movements slow and steady. All in all, his second mission with Bravo had been a success. He still struggled to read his new brothers while keeping count of the number of cases of beer he owed them, and make sure he filled his AAR in correctly. Luckily, they were spared a debrief last night. They were ordered to return to base in the morning.

Now, he stood in his bedroom and wondered if he’d be able to wrap his own ribs. There was no way he’d go to the infirmary to get his ribs checked out. The mere thought of entering the building made him shiver. There was nothing they could do for him in any case. Bruised ribs had to heal on their own. He knew that. Everyone knew that. Clay tried to take a deep breath and regretted it immediately as he coughed. Pain exploded in his chest, his eyes watered up and he had to steady himself not to double over.

“Fuck,” Clay wheezed as he finally stopped coughing. “Note to myself, don’t do that again.” His legs felt like rubber and instead of getting something to eat, Clay made his way to his bedroom lowering himself ever so slowly down to his bed. Luckily, he had no problem sleeping in the nude, because there was no way he’d be getting any clothes on his body tonight. He closed his eyes and as he drifted off to sleep, he groaned again. He’d placed the ibuprofen on the kitchen counter and he’d forgotten to take them. For a moment he contemplated on getting up again. The pills were not going to make a huge difference tomorrow morning. They were still going to hurt, and hurt like a bitch. Now, he needed to sleep.

****

**\---SEAL TEAM---**

The dark circles beneath his eyes looked almost as bad as the bruises that decorated his chest. He had looked at himself once in the mirror and not again. Clay didn’t get any sleep. He even forced himself up from the bed and collected the pills which he’d swallowed dry. He’d tried to get some sleep after that, but without any success. Not being able to stay one second longer on his back, he’d gotten up while it was still dark, and took another hot shower before he painstakingly started to dress.

It was a task that he nearly didn’t complete. He still couldn’t bend over. He had almost fainted when he had to put on his shocks and boots. Cried, when he finally managed to do that simple task. Clay didn’t even try to pull a t-shirt over his head. Instead, he settled for a button-down shirt and for a moment he wished Brian was there. That was until he remembered that Brian would’ve kicked his ass for not getting treatment.

Clay could hear himself wheezing as he moved around slowly. It sounded strange to his ears as his breathing was shallow and fast. It was as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. He’d tried to take deeper breaths, but the pain in his chest intensified ten times over at the attempt. Clay felt clammy, and his hands trembled as he gathered his keys, wallet and phone before he headed out of the apartment.

When he parked on base, Clay had no idea on how he got there. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he couldn’t stop trembling as he wiped his face. Clay leaned back against the seat and took a breath. It wasn’t as deep as what he wanted it to be, but it had to do. He couldn’t let his new team know that he was injured. He would never live it down if they knew he got hurt on his second mission. He was a Tier One SEAL, some bruised ribs were not going to take him down.

“Get yourself together, Clay. Now is not the time to show pain. You can’t even think about it.” With much difficulty Clay managed to get out of his car and walked across the parking lot to their building. It was still early enough which meant no one else on the teams were there yet and that suited him fine. He could get what he needed from his cage and make it to the briefing room without anyone noticing anything. Clay was grateful for the fact that they would only be discussing their AARs. It was going to be a lowkey day.

****

**\---SEAL TEAM---**

Trent laughed as he read the note written in a bright red lipstick on Clay’s windscreen. He recognized the handwriting, and he had to agree with the message. He frowned as he once again looked at how Clay had parked the Nova. He had parked over two spots, the car stood skew, and wasn’t even pulled fully into the parking bay. He snickered again at the words. _‘If you fuck like you park, you’ll never get it in.’_

Still shaking his head, he made it into the building and went directly to the cages. He frowned when he heard no voices from the other side. He’d seen Sonny’s truck parked across from his. He would’ve thought the Texan would’ve been ripping their rookie a new one for parking like an ass. Trent opened the door and stepped inside.

“Morning. Have you seen how our rookie parked? I’m not sure he’s got a license,” Sonny’s voice sounded from his cage.

Trent looked around but couldn’t spot their youngest teammate. “Did you kill him?” He couldn’t help but ask. Trent even looked around to see if he could spot a body lying around.

Sonny huffed. “Haven’t seen him yet.” He gazed over his shoulder and saw Trent peeking into every cage. “He’s not there.”

Trent hummed. He wanted to respond when the door opened and Cerberus trotted in. He smiled at their pup and scratched him in greeting, before Cerb bounced to Sonny for more attention. Trent watched on as Brock looked around.

“He’s not here.” Trent didn’t need to clarify to who he referred to as Brock nodded and headed towards his own cage.

“Did you take our rookie out drinking, Sonny?” Trent inquired.

“What? Why the hell would I do that? The kid hasn’t earned his spurs to come drink with me.” Sonny snorted.

“Just wondering. The way he parked this morning, I thought that he might be drunk.”

“I hope not.” Brock lifted his head. “Jason will skin him alive.”

“True.” Trent and Sonny answered together.

The door to their cages opened and Ray walked in with Jason on his heels.

“Sonny, so help me, if you got the kid drunk, I’m kicking your ass. You’ll be running hills for the next two months,” Jason declared even before the door could close behind him.

“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Jace!” Sonny threw his arms in the air. “Give me one good reason on why the hell I would do that?”

“You love drinking.” The team responded as one.

“Not with the rookie,” Sonny huffed.

Jason looked around. “He not here?”

Trent shook his head. “No one has seen him yet.”

“Call him,” Jason instructed Ray. “Tell him to get his ass to the briefing room.”

“Roger.” Ray pressed his phone against his ear and frowned when it rang, but remained unanswered. “He’s not answering.”

“I’m gonna skin him alive,” Jason growled as he exited the room. “Keep on calling him.”

The team walked towards the briefing room.

“You can stop calling.” Trent indicated to the placeholders against the wall.

Ray shook his head and placed his phone in an empty pocket and moved to the door. “You still gonna skin him alive?”

Jason glared at his best friend. He rolled his eyes when Ray grinned.

“Maybe he parked like that, because he was afraid of being late.” Brock offered up an explanation.

Jason rolled his eyes again.

Ray nodded. “Remember what he said, on our first mission. _‘Being on time is five minutes late.’_ I think Brock’s guess is spot on.”

“Let’s just go in,” Sonny mumbled as he dropped his phone in an empty pocket and yanked the door open. He scanned the room and spotted their rookie seated at the empty table.

“Another case of beer for making us look late.” He tapped his finger on his watch. “We’re not late, we’re on time.”

“Not my intention, sorry,” Clay responded, and all five team members plus one dog stopped in their tracks.

They didn’t know Clay long, but one thing that they did know, was that he never apologized. Even if he was wrong, the word _sorry_ never crossed his lips.

Trent punched Sonny in the arm while Jason glared at him.

“What?” Sonny sounded perplexed as he rubbed his arm.

“You did take him drinking,” Jason accused him.

Sonny growled. “I did not. Fuck, Jace, why would you say something like that?”

“Because he’s fucking drunk!” Jason roared.

“It’s not my fucking fault.” Sonny glared at Clay. “Speak up, Spenser. Don’t hold your tongue now, tell these knuckleheads that I did _not_ take you drinking.”

Clay looked up. He frowned and looked confused as he stared at his teammates. “I’m not drunk.”

“Spenser,” Sonny growled again.

“Quinn didn’t take me drinking,” he added softly.

“See, see. I told you so.” Sonny pointed at the youngster and at the same time he slugged Trent on the bicep.

“Then why do you appear hungover and why the hell did you park like an ass?” Jason asked as he walked over to the mini fridge to collect a bottle of water.

“I’m fine.” Clay sat up straight.

Jason looked over his shoulder. “And your parking skills?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I parked.”

Jason cocked his head. At least Clay’s cocky attitude returned. He hummed and left it at that. Spenser was in for a rude surprise. He was about to respond when Eric and Harrington walked in. The small talk died down as they started rehashing their last mission.

****

**\---SEAL TEAM---**

The debriefing took longer than what Clay thought it would take. Both Captain Harrington and Blackburn had a boatload of questions. They’d gone over the mission what felt like five hundred times.

The only thing that he was grateful for was the fact that he didn’t have to say much. His AAR was accepted as is, and his opinion of the rest of the mission was not required. It had given him time to sit back and try to relax. He’d wished he could sleep, but knew that wasn’t an option.

Where initially Clay thought that sitting in a chair and not doing much sounded good, he’d now changed his mind. The muscles in his upper body, sides and even his back, have started protesting at being kept in one single position for hours on end. He didn’t want to move around in an attempt not to experience more pain and also, he didn’t want to give away that he was in pain by moaning or gasping for air unexpectedly.

He was also starting to experience another problem. He wanted to cough. The first few times he’d managed to push the sensation down, taking a sip of water from the water bottle he had in his lap, or he ignored it. But it was getting harder by the minute not to give in to the temptation to cough. Clay had huge problems with that. One, he had a feeling that if he started to cough, he might not be able to stop, and two, he might faint from the pain if he gave in to the sensation too cough. That would mean the team would find out that he’s injured and that was not an option.

When the urge to cough again crept up into his throat, Clay cleared his throat. This simple action had Trent turning towards him and shooting him a pointed look. Clay chose to ignore him. However, he could feel the medic’s eyes on him. He hoped that Trent would lose interest in him if he looked bored. Clay had no idea if he could pull it off, he could only hope.

Clay focused his attention on a spot above Blackburn’s head and concentrated on that and nothing more. He tried to practice sniper breathing, but found himself unable to take deep steady breaths. Clay knew his breathing was still shallow and too fast, but nothing he tried helped him take deeper breaths. He frowned when he heard a wheezing sound and Clay looked around to see what made the noise, before he realized it was himself that was responsible for that sound. He clamped his mouth shut and held his breath. That turned out to be the wrong thing to do.

****

**\---SEAL TEAM---**

Trent took a seat next to their rookie. There was something not right about the kid, but since he didn’t know him, and had no baseline to compare his current behavior with, he was left in the dark. He made a mental note to take another look at the file Armstrong gave him. Maybe he would be lucky and find something in there.

At first, things seemed to be fine. Clay commented when asked a question, although a bit more subdued than what he’d expected from him. Other than that, he sat there quietly without moving much and appeared to be listening to what was going on around him.

This, however, changed as the first hour passed. Clay had become restless but at the same time, he remained eerily still. His breathing was much shallower, and it was clear that he suppressed a bout of coughing on more than one occasion. His skin appeared to be clammy, Trent frowned at the sight. The air conditioner was on and it was not hot in the room.

He frowned when he noticed the slight blue-tinge to Clay’s skin. He tried to get a look at his fingernails, but from where he sat, he had no clear view of Clay’s hands. Trent stared at Clay and silently counted the breaths the younger man took. The first minute he counted twenty-seven breaths. He didn’t like the number, but he wasn’t a person who panicked, and he counted again. This time around it was thirty breaths. It was too fast, and too shallow.

Trent pushed his chair back and made the move to stand up, when Clay seemed to stop breathing. Trent was already in action. When Clay gasped for air, wheezed, started coughing and at the same time grabbed his shirt, Trent stood next to him.

“Get my kit,” he ordered over his shoulder as he placed his hands on Clay’s shoulders. “Easy, Kid, I’ve got you.” He gently pushed Clay back in the chair.

Clay continued to cough, he tried to breathe in, but the air refused to enter his body. His body shook and his first instinct was to run. He had no idea on where he’d run to, but was grateful for the fact that Trent pushed him back into his chair. He coughed again, and a coppery taste filled his mouth. He didn’t need to check his hand to know he was coughing up blood.

He turned his head when Quinn’s voice sounded next to his head.

“What the fuck, is that blood?” He actually sounded concerned.

“Clay, look at me, come on, Kid, focus on me.” Trent snapped his fingers in front of Clay’s face in an attempt to get him to focus on him. Clay’s breathing or the lack there off was getting worse.

“What can we do?” Ray’s voice sounded next to him and Trent gazed up.

“Help me get him on the floor.” With Ray and Jason’s help he lowered Clay to the floor. Clay was still wheezing as Trent grabbed hold of Clay’s shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew in different directions and he cursed. He wasn’t the only one.

“Fuck! What the hell!”

Trent heard Sonny’s words, but he blocked them out. He concentrated on Clay’s chest as he lowered his head and placed his ear against Clay’s chest. He silently cursed as he heard the diminished breath sounds on both sides. He carefully examined the bruising on Clay’s chest and side and sighed in relief when none of Clay’s ribs moved beneath his fingers.

“Where’s my bag!” he yelled and then grabbed it as Brock shoved it in his hands. He would later hug Brock as his best friend brought his primary bag, which contained what he needed. Trent looked up. “You need to hold him still.”

“Why?” “I need to intubate him.”

“Without sedation?” someone asked from the side.

“No time for that. Hold him still.” Trent didn’t look who’d followed his order as he moved to the top of Clay’s head. Clay’s eyes were closed, his breathing still labored. Trent rested his hands on either side of Clay’s head and tilted his head backwards.

Clay’s eyes snapped open. His eyes were filled with fear. He made a grab for Trent’s hand and Trent released his head and grasped Clay’s hand, squeezing it hard. “I need to intubate you, it’s not going to be fun, but I need you to hold as still as possible. It’s going to be over in less than a minute then you’ll be able to breathe again, okay.”

Clay managed to blink once before he gasped for air again.

Trent grabbed the Laryngoscope from the bag and with practiced ease, he extended Clay’s neck and prepared to insert the curved blade down Clay’s throat.

Clay tried to buck upwards, but Sonny and Jason managed to keep him down without injuring him. “We’ve got you, Kid. Just hold on, Trent’s almost done.” Sonny squeezed Clay’s hand and managed to hide the grimace as Clay nearly crushed his fingers.

Trent made sure to stay to the right of Clay’s tongue as he inserted the scope. When he passed through the cords, Clay jerked his head. He managed to lift his right foot from the ground and bucked his hips.

“Guys,” Trent growled.

“Easy, buddy, almost done.” Trent soothed Clay as he inserted the endotracheal tube down Clay’s trachea and inflated the small balloon to make sure it stayed in place.

“You’re doing so well, Clay.” Trent removed the scope and hooked the end of the tube onto the bag which he gently squeezed to get air into Clay’s lungs. “Take over.” He handed the bag to Brock and reached for his stethoscope which Brock brought along as well. He took another listen to Clay’s chest and let the tension bleed from his shoulders. He’d inserted the tube in the right place and could hear the even breath sounds from both sides of Clay’s chest.

“How far is the ambulance?” He looked up.

“Two mikes out,” Davis answered.

“Thank you.” Trent gazed down and wiped the sweaty bangs from Clay’s forehead. His youngest brother still looked scared shitless, but he was much calmer as he realized that he could now breath.

“You and I are going to have some words when you’re better.” He glared sternly at his teammate.

Clay stared at him with glassy eyes and Trent sighed. “We’ll talk later.” He smiled when Clay closed his eyes.

“Trent?” Jason’s voice was filled with fear.

“I’m not a doctor, but I’m calling a severe pulmonary contusion.” Trent indicated to the black mass in the center of Clay’s chest and the bruising that spread down his torso and also around his right side.

“Ouch.” Sonny rubbed his own chest. Unfortunately, being a SEAL meant they all had suffered from bruised lungs one time or another in their line of work. It was never a pleasant experience and a not so pleasant to recover from either.

“Can you tell what caused these bruises?” Ray’s chest ached just looking at their rookie.

Trent looked at Clay and kept an eye on Brock who still squeezed the bag at a steady rate. “Want me to take over?”

“I’m good,” Brock responded.

Trent didn’t get a chance to respond to Ray’s question as the briefing room door opened and the EMTs entered with a gurney. Trent got to his feet and quickly reported what had transpired and treatment given.

With the help of Bravo team, Clay got transferred to the gurney without difficulty. One of the paramedics took over from Brock as they got themselves ready to head out.

As they pushed the gurney, Clay snatched Trent’s wrist and held on tight.

“Stop,” Trent called out and the paramedics came to a halt. “You okay?” he asked in concern as the grip around his wrist intensified.

Clay’s hand trembled and Trent saw the fear in the young man’s eyes. “Want me to come with?”

Clay blinked once and Trent nodded. “Boss.” He turned to face Jason.

“Go, we’ll follow you.” Jason pushed Trent towards the door and Bravo team watched as their rookie and medic disappeared through the open door.

For a moment silence reigned in the room. “I need to check something,” Sonny grumbled as he pushed past the team.

Jason sighed and followed. They all knew where Sonny was headed.

At the cages, Sonny used his lockpick to open Clay’s cage and went for the gear that was still heaped up in the corner and not properly packed away. He picked up the Kevlar vest and turned it around. In the middle of the vest, the blunt end of a fragmented bullet pierced through the material.

“Son of a bitch,” Sonny growled as he flung the vest to the side. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” he growled again.

“Get in line, Sonny. I’m first.” Jason had picked up the vest and looked it over. He was angry that Clay got shot and didn’t report it to any of them, but he was also grateful for the fact that the Kevlar vest did its job.

“This can’t happen again.” Jason swallowed. Images of Nate lying dead next to him threatened to overrun his vision. He blinked rapidly to make them stay away.

“We’ll talk to him,” Ray responded.

“He’s running fucking hills for the rest of his life,” Sonny piped up from where he leaned against the wired cage.

“We’re keeping him?” Brock asked quietly.

“You want him off the team?” Jason frowned.

“No,” Brock shook his head. “No, Clay belongs with us.”

“I agree, but we can’t let this happen again, Boss. Don’t think the kid realizes, but he’s placing the whole team at risk if he doesn’t report an injury.” Ray had taken the vest from Jason and inspected it himself. Clay would never use this vest again. It had served its duty.

“Don’t you worry, after I’m done with the kid, he won’t risk remaining quiet about an injury. He will report every damn hangnail if he knows what is good for him.” Jason took the vest from his 2IC and tugged it under his arm.

“Let’s go.”

****

**\---SEAL TEAM---**

**Naval Hospital**

They found Trent as he paced in front of the hospital. He looked up as they walked up to him and came to a halt. “He’s going to be all right.”

“But?” Brock could see the but on Trent’s face.

“But, he’s in ICU. They’ve placed him on a ventilator for the time giving his lungs a chance to heal.”

“How much damage?”

“They took a chest x-ray and did a CT-scan as well. Just under twenty percent of his lungs are bruised. They’re also worried about his right kidney and they’ll be keeping an eye on that.”

Jason cringed at the numbers. Any number over twenty percent when it came to bruised lungs were deemed serious.

“Anything else?” Sonny inquired.

Trent shook his head. “Got a few other scrapes and bruises over his whole body, but nothing serious.”

“Good, so I can still beat the shit out of him.”

The team grinned. Jason shook his head. “Still need to fall in line, Sonny. I’m first.”

“As medic, I’m calling second.” Trent looked over at Ray.

“No objection from my side.” Ray shrugged.

“We saw his vest.” Brock spoke up again. “He took a round to the middle of the chest.”

Trent nodded. “I thought as much. Still not sure what caused the rest of the bruising.” He shrugged. “Could’ve fallen against something.”

“Fought with someone?” Brock asked.

Trent shrugged. “Possible.”

Sonny growled and fisted his hands.

“Did he report to anyone that he’d been shot, or that he got in a scuffle with a tango?” Jason looked around at the rest of his team. He should’ve asked this back on base already, but it had slipped his mind. All of them shook their heads.

Trent and Brock shared a look.

“What’s going on?” Ray saw the look.

“Armstrong,” Trent spoke up.

“The file he gave you.”

Trent nodded at Jason. “He told me, us, that Clay had the tendency to hide his injuries.”

“Wait.” Jason held up his hands. “Are you saying he kept this from us on _purpose_?”

Trent merely nodded.

Jason glared at Ray.

“What did I do?”

“You made me choose him.”

Ray laughed. “Don’t look now, brother, but _we_ all had a say in that, including _you_.”

“That’s why we’re keeping him.” Brock reminded Jason. “We’re the only team that will show him that teams are family. That we’re his family.”

Jason had no response. Both Ray and Brock were correct. He turned to Trent again. “How long does the doctor want to keep him here?”

“At least seventy-two hours, depending on how he’s doing on the ventilator.” Trent messaged his wrist but failed to keep the grimace from his face.

“What’s wrong with your wrist?” Brock took his friend’s hand to have a closer look.

“Are those finger marks?” Ray indicated to the deep bruising around Trent’s wrist.

“Yeah, Clay’s got one hell of a grip on him.” Trent shrugged. He had realized something about Clay, which might explain a lot of why he never seeks medical attention. If his hunch was correct, he might have a solution that will get Clay the treatment he needed in most instances and he wouldn’t have to hide his injuries from them.

“He didn’t do this while you intubated him. He had a death grip on my wrist, but nothing like that.” Sonny showed them the red mark that decorated his own wrist.

“It was a long ride,” Trent responded and cleared his throat. “The ICU are strict with their visitation rules. I managed to convince them that we won’t be in their way, and that Clay would be more cooperative if we’re around.”

“We can work with that.” Jason nodded. “How many at a time?”

Trent sighed. “Only one. I tried to push it to two, but they didn’t want to budge.”

“One is better than none.” Jason slapped Trent on the shoulder. “I’ll take the first watch. Get some ice for that wrist of yours.” He gave Trent a pointed look.

“Yes, Boss.” Trent moved away with Brock at his side.

“The rest of us can hang around here.” Sonny walked towards the plastic chairs.

Jason wanted to argue, but he knew that once Sonny decided on doing something, he wouldn’t budge. It surprised him that their burly Texan decided to camp out in the hospital. Especially since Clay had only been running with them for a couple of weeks.

“I thought you didn’t like him?”

Sonny huffed. “He still owes me, us, beer. I need to make sure he’s all right.”

Jason could merely shake his head, although Ray did snicker at his back. He turned and stared at his best friend. “Keep him in line, Ray.” He pointed at Sonny.

“I’ll try, Boss, but it’s Sonny. You know how difficult it can be.”

“I’ve got faith in you, Raymond.” Jason smirked as it was Ray’s turn to roll his eyes at him. He left his two brothers in the waiting room and made his way over to ICU. He had to show his ID before they granted him entry into Clay’s room. He also had to promise that he would stay out of their way and leave immediately when they asked it from him. Jason had no problem making that promise. Within minutes he found himself seated next to Clay’s bed.

Their rookie appeared even younger than his twenty-six years as he lay motionless with a tube down his throat breathing for him. Seeing Clay there made him think of his own children. Emma was sixteen, Clay a mere ten years her senior. Technically, he was old enough to be the kid’s father. Jason rolled his eyes. Luckily, he wasn’t. But then thinking of Clay’s father made him clench his fists.

He and Adam had a long conversation about Ashland Spenser. Ash might’ve been a SEALs, SEAL. Might’ve been a Tier One Operator, but he wasn’t worthy of the word _dad_. Even Adam had acknowledged that. The thing is, it didn’t change anything. Clay still needed a father figure, and that void was yet to be filled. Yes, Adam had taken a lot of the responsibilities on his shoulders, especially since Clay joined the Navy. It was Adam who’d encouraged him to do BUDs. It was on Adam’s instance that Clay entered Green Team and took a shot at becoming a DEVGRU operator. It had paid off, and one day Clay would be regarded as one of the best. In the meantime, they still had to keep him alive.

And that’s where the problem came in. Trent and Brock had told them about the file the Armstrong kid gave them. About the suspected abuse when he was a child. It had made them all growl. He even had to send Sonny to the gym to blow off some steam. The protective nature in all of them had come to the forefront, and together with Clay’s talent, made it an easy decision in the end to pick him for Bravo team.

But this – this hiding of injuries. This was bad. Especially if they were in the middle of deployment, in one or another godforsaken country on a mission, and Clay decided not to tell them he was injured. It could place them all at risk. Unfortunately, he had no idea on how to handle this problem. Not that he would say it out loud, but it had him stumped. He could, and he would in this instance, make Clay run hills in full gear. Send him around the O-course until he collapsed, but Jason had a feeling that it wouldn’t solve the problem.

He understood that they needed a relationship built on trust with Clay, and that it would take time, but this was different. There should already be a basic amount of trust between all of them. A relationship where one teammate would tell another he was injured. And if that trust wasn’t there, then what was there? To him – nothing. The mere thought, scared Jason shitless.

Jason knew he would have to confer with the rest of the team. He hoped that either Brock or Trent would have a possible solution for this situation. One thing he would make sure to do was to make it clear to Clay that if he ever hid an injury of this nature from them, Jason wouldn’t hesitate to kick him off Bravo team. He knew the team would stand with him on such a decision. But it wasn’t one he wanted to make.

“What are we going to do with you, Spenser?” Jason asked out loud as he leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his knees. He leaned back and continued to stare at the young man in bed as he tried to come up with a possible solution to their rookie problem.


	2. Chapter 2

**Clay’s hospital room: The following morning**

Trent watched as their rookie continued to be restless in bed. He moved his feet and legs. His hands clenched into fist, before he relaxed them again, and he even crossed his arms over his chest one time. But despite all the movement, he refused to wake up and open his eyes.

They had removed him from the ventilator in the early hours of the morning and he only had a nasal cannula under his nose. He was also finishing his last IV with fluids, as too much fluids being forced into the body was also not a good thing for pulmonary contusion patients.

If all things went well, Clay would be home by the following day. Trent had a feeling it was going to be difficult to keep their youngster here once he woke up. Especially if his hunch was correct. He did have fair warning, but he didn’t listen to the message behind Armstrong’s words. He’d told them that Clay would never report willingly to the infirmary or to any doctor. Yes, Trent had a feeling he didn’t trust them, as Armstrong told them, but there was something more.

It would be easy to monitor Clay at home, as he would only require supportive care. The contusion would heal in about five to seven days. Clay would have to do some deep breathing exercises and be encouraged to cough to remove the mucus and blood from the airways and get some physiotherapy to rid the lungs of the secretions and to increase the oxygen in his lungs. His chest would hurt, and he would be issued some pain medication for that, but if he took care of himself, and no complications like pneumonia developed, he would heal completely.

Even his kidney improved overnight. His urine output had picked up and any traces of blood in his urine had diminished as well. Trent would make sure to keep an eye on that. But first things, first, Clay needed to wake up.

When Clay scrunched up his nose and tried to reach for the cannula, Trent reached out and took Clay’s hands in his and squeezed it once.

“Time to wake, Clay.” Trent squeezed Clay’s hand again and grinned when Clay squeezed back. “Come on, Clay, open those blue eyes of yours. Come on, wake up.” Trent continued to encourage him to open his eyes and wake up. He kept Clay’s hand in his, as he wanted to ground the younger man the moment he woke up and realized where he was.

Trent had to continue to talk a few minutes longer before Clay finally opened his eyes.

“Welcome back,” Trent squeezed Clay’s hand again. “You’re in the hospital with a pulmonary contusion. You’ve been on a ventilator for most of the night, but things are going much better now.” He felt the moment Clay tensed up.

“Clay, look at me,” Trent ordered. He had a feeling that the young man might panic, and that was one thing he didn’t want. He had to do everything in his power to prevent it. “Look at me,” he ordered for a second time as Clay’s eyes darted around. Trent didn’t have to look at the monitors above Clay’s head to know that his brother’s heart rate had increased, his blood pressure went up, his oxygen levels dropped, and his breathing became rapid.

“Take some deep breaths, Clay. I know your chest hurts, but you don’t want to hyperventilate now. Slow and easy, Kid. You’re safe. It’s only me and you, relax.” Trent kept his voice soothing and low, and even though Clay’s heart rate stayed high, his breathing evened out a bit and Trent took that as a win.

“You okay?” he finally asked when he saw the rookie staring at him. Clay didn’t respond, merely continued to stare at him.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re doing so well.” Trent could not get a read on the kid. The time spent together was not nearly enough to have built up a trusting relationship with him. Armstrong’s words came back to him. _“He’ll learn to trust you. You just need to be patient.”_ Trent had a feeling that it was time to get his patience together and put it to use.

A few times Clay opened his mouth to say something, but then closed his mouth without uttering a single word. His heart rate increased again.

“Clay, breathe. I’m not going to leave you alone, I promise.” Trent squeezed Clay’s hand which had tightened around his. He could see the white of Clay’s knuckles as he gripped his hand.

“I need to go.” Clay tried to push himself up on his elbows.

“Sorry, you’re not going anywhere.” Trent gently pushed him back against the pillow.

“I can’t stay here; I need to go.” Clay tried again as his breathing sped up again.

Trent took Clay’s face between his hands. “Focus on me, Clay. You need to breathe. You’re safe here. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Please,” Clay gasped for air. An alarm sounded above his head and he jerked in fright. His body trembled. “Please,” he begged.

Trent wanted to curse at the stupid alarm. He should’ve thought about it and switched the damn thing off. He reached for the monitor and muted the noise. The sound gave way to Clay’s erratic breathing.

“Breathe in, hold two, three, four, breathe out.” Trent demonstrated in an attempt to get Clay to calm down.

The hospital door behind him swung open and Clay’s hold on his forearm increased. Trent ignored whoever came in. “Look at me, Clay. You’re doing so good. Concentrate on your breathing.” Footsteps came to a halt behind him, but the person didn’t speak up. Trent took it as a win. Finally, Clay’s breathing evened out and he slumped back against his pillow. Trent patted him on the shoulder and leaned back.

“You did great.” A voice sounded behind them.

Trent turned and smiled at the young nurse who stood behind him. He nodded. “Thank you.”

She smiled and gazed at the monitors before she moved away. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“We will.” Trent nodded at her again. He had a feeling she’d realized what was going on. He wondered who she knew who suffered from the same phobia as Clay. Trent wanted on as she exited the room.

“This is stupid,” Clay whispered the words. He rested his hand on his bruised chest.

Trent shook his head. “No, it’s not. President Nixon was afraid of hospitals. He was sure he wouldn’t leave it alive.”

“I’m not Nixon. I’m a Tier One Operator.”

“Correct.” Trent nodded. “And you don’t know Sonny for very long, and although we tease him a lot, he has a few phobias. Including Arachnophobia. And even with all of his phobias, he’s still a member of DEVGRU.”

Clay appeared unconvinced.

“Clay, having a fear for hospitals, will not get you kicked off DEVGRU. It’s something we can work on, to get you more comfortable with the environment, to make things more bearable for you.”

Clay looked at him doubtful. “Like what?”

“Getting to know your doctor, trusting your doctor. Familiarizing yourself with the hospital, if you need to be admitted, the room you’re going to be occupying. Listening to your doctor, adhere to your treatment. Talk to us, to me. I will accompany you at any stage. As would any of the others.”

Trent looked around. “For example, this room you’re in. It’s a standardized ICU room, which on its own already differs from a normal hospital room as it had more equipment in it. But if you’re familiar with the equipment in the room, then that will be one thing less you’d be uncomfortable with.”

Clay nodded. “You sure it will help?”

“I’m positive.” Trent smiled as he got up from his chair. He stepped up to Clay’s bed and touched the monitor next to Clay’s head. “Let’s start here.” Trent indicated to each piece of equipment and explained to Clay how it worked and what it was used for. He took it slowly and could see that with each passing moment Clay relaxed more. Lastly, he tapped on the thin plastic tubing underneath Clay’s nose. “Nasal cannula. Supplies you with much needed oxygen. Less intrusive and bothersome than the standard oxygen mask, but can’t be used in all cases where the patient needs oxygen.”

Clay lowered his eyes. “Is this the part where you lecture me?”

Trent huffed and rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not the lecturing type. That’s Ray’s department. And before you get excited, yes, he will lecture you.”

He tapped Clay on the forearm to get his attention. “However, I will tell you this. If you _ever_ hide an injury from me again, I will treat you and when you’re on the mend, _I_ will kill you myself.”

Clay cocked his head. “Seems a bit counterproductive to me.”

“No, not really.” Trent turned seriously. “I know this is hard on you. Nosocomephobia is a real fear, but you don’t need to deal with it on your own, Clay. We will be there for you every step of the way.”

“People think it’s a joke.”

Trent cocked his head. “I’m not laughing, am I? The nurse that was here, she didn’t laugh? In fact, I have a feeling she dealt with this before. She stayed out of the way, knowing that if she crowded you, it would increase your anxiety. If she’s around later on, talk to her. Hear what she has to say.”

Clay nodded.

“Can you tell me what triggers your fear? Is it something in the hospital, or the building itself?” Trent was aware that some people who suffered from nosocomephobia, might also suffer from phobias like iatrophobia, hemophobia or even trypanophobia. He had no idea how far Clay’s fear went.

Clay cleared his throat. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He fisted the sheet.

“Okay, can you tell me if you suffer from any other phobias that’s interlinked with nosocomephobia?” Trent eyed the way Clay fisted the sheet.

“Just that.” His eyes felt heavy. Although he didn’t suffer from a full-blown panic attack, being injured and panicking like that took its toll on him. His eyes drooped and he forced them open. “How long do I need to stay?”

“At least another day or two. They will most likely transfer you to a general room for a day before releasing you.”

The thought of going to another room, made him gasp for air. He tried once again to push himself up.

“Easy, Clay.” Trent took hold of Clay’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be right there, I promise.”

“Fuck,” Clay cursed. “I hate this.” He swiped at a tear and closed his eyes.

“You’re not alone anymore, Clay. I’ve got your six. Bravo team has your six. I promise.”

Clay nodded. He wanted to respond, but he was so tired. He didn’t even realize that he closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.

Trent watched on as Clay slept. He watched the monitors above Clay’s head almost as much as he watched the kid himself. Never in his life would he have thought that this cocky brash little shit called Clay Spenser, also known as their rookie, could be so scared and insecure as well.

He would have to talk to the team. They had to know that this was serious, but he also needed to make sure that no one teased the kid about it. Especially Sonny. The Texan had a huge heart, but he had the ability to be crass sometimes, even when he didn’t mean any harm.

Thinking of Sonny, made Trent grin. Sonny would be the perfect person on the team to keep Clay from panicking in a situation which required him to visit a hospital. The Texan would go on about his own phobias in such a way, that Clay wouldn’t have time to think about anything else. Unfortunately, in their line of work saying that Clay would never end up in the hospital, wouldn’t work. The possibility of that was too high. But as Clay started to learn he could trust his team; things will get easier for him and Trent will take that as a win.

****

**\---SEAL TEAM---**

**Naval Base: 1 Week later**

Clay stared at his hands while his 2IC spoke quietly to him. The man never raised his voice once, but the words he used impacted Clay hard. It made him feel like he wanted to confess to his deepest sins as Ray told him how reckless his behavior was. He knew he’d been stupid, but it was hard. He doubted that any of them would understand.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as Perry finally stopped talking. He lifted his head.

Ray smiled. “I know you are. But I also know, and the rest of the team knows as well, that this is in all likelihood, going to happen again.”

Clay opened his mouth to deny this, but then closed it again. Ray was right. It would happen again. He found himself nodding in agreement.

“We came up with a possible solution,” Brock spoke up from where he sat.

Clay turned and glanced at the K9 handler. “Making me run more hills?” He hissed as an open hand collided with the back of his head. It wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been and the hiss was more out of surprise then pain.

“Can see Spenser’s feeling better already, Boss. Maybe we should let him start running hills today already, instead of later.” Sonny chewed on a toothpick as he leaned back in his chair.

“No hills, Sonny. Not until the end of the month,” Trent spoke up as he handed Clay a bottle of water. He grinned before he continued. “But then, yes, he will be running hills.”

“In full gear,” Jason added. He took a seat next to Ray. He waited for Trent to sit down before he continued.

“Trent told us about your phobia.” Clay’s head snapped up and he pushed his chair back as he glared at Trent.

“Sit down, Spenser.” Jason made sure that his tone of voice made it clear that it wasn’t a request.

Clay remained on his feet.

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Clay gazed down as a cold snout touched his hand. He watched as Cerberus wiggled himself in between Clay and the table, making Clay either, sit down or fall down. He couldn’t glare at the dog as Cerberus jumped on his lap and made himself comfortable. He was surprised to see how gently the dog moved on his lap. It was as if he knew Clay was injured.

“Good boy,” Brock spoke up.

Clay had no idea if he meant the dog, or if the man referred to him.

“As I said, Trent told us about your fear, and I want you to know that we have your back. But this is also a two-way street, and you need to be able to ask for help as well. I know, this will come easier for you, the longer we work as a team together and you learn to trust us more. In the beginning it will be hard, so we came up with a plan that will help. It will be beneficial to all of us. Not only to you.”

Clay looked at Hayes. “What’s the plan?” A wet lick over the back of his hand made him realize that he had the arm of the chair in a death grip. He moved his hand and stroked Cerberus’ head.

“A wellness check system.” Trent leaned forward. “We’re going to partner up for each op, and each one will be responsible for the wellness of the other. After each mission, whenever the first opportunity arises, each partner will inform the other of any injuries sustained. Nothing is to be left out. If you stubbed your toe, you will inform your partner. All injuries will be triaged and treatment will be handed out accordingly.”

“And what happens if we don’t admit to an injury?”

“You don’t want to do that, little buddy.” Sonny pointed at him with a finger.

“Sonny’s right. You don’t want to do that.” Jason grinned. “You see, making you run hills is all good, but I’ve seen the way you run the o-course and I’ve got the feeling like you love running, so making you run hills, it’s not much of a punishment. So, we’re going to make things a bit more interesting.” He rose to his feet.

“You see, we’re going to make the other partner suffer. If you are teamed up with me and you fail to report an injury and we find out about it, I will be running the hills. Not you.”

“That’s not fair,” Clay responded alarmed.

“That’s what I said,” Sonny replied.

“It’s not fair, but it will work. And before you think this is only because of you, I can assure you, you’re not the only one.”

“It was only that one time.” Ray threw his arms in the air.

“It was only a scratch, I forgot about it,” Sonny piped up.

Trent shook his head and looked at Clay. “You see.” He pointed at Ray. “He forgot to mention that he got in an altercation with a man three times his size and got knocked to the ground. He suffered from a dislocated shoulder for two hours before I noticed it.”

Clay watched as Ray looked sheepish.

Trent shifted his gaze to Sonny. “His scratch was a bullet graze that required ten stitches and he nearly bled out.”

“The point is,” Jason continued. “This has to stop. We rely on one another in the field, and we can’t do our jobs if we’re left in the dark about things that are important, like the health status of our brothers. This rule is in the best interest of the whole team.”

“I understand.”

“Also, since you’re still the rookie, every time you fail to mention an injury, the first round of drinks are on you.” Sonny grinned.

Clay opened his mouth to protest.

“I wouldn’t say a word, Clay. We had it at a case of beer for every injury. Take the first round, it will work out cheaper,” Brock spoke up.

“Clay, it’s okay to ask for help. And we all know it’s going to take a while for you to trust us completely but know this, we will always be there for you when you need us to be. We’re a team. We’re a family.”

“I’ll try.” He laughed as Cerberus licked his face.

“That’s all we ask, Clay.” Trent reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

Clay smiled. The conversation he had with Adam after Brian’s death came to mind. Adam told him that the team will be the only family he needed. Maybe there was some truth in Adam’s words. Only time would tell. He was willing to give it a chance.

**THE END**


End file.
